


Practice Makes Perfect

by silvergaram



Category: Cyphers - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 15:19:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8253748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergaram/pseuds/silvergaram
Summary: With the help of a mirror, Martin Chalfie realizes his feelings toward his colleague.





	

Martin Chalfie, affable talent of Grand Flamme with an impeccable smile, was a shy kid. That, even he himself had remembered only after standing in front of a mirror in the place of appointment 20 minutes before the appointed time as talents of the foundation ought to be. Twenty minutes later, six thirty that is, he was to meet a… colleague, although he did not at all prefer a word so full of trust for a person lacking said element, and he thought it would be nice to practice his gestures, his modulations-something he had not done ever since he received the key to open all hearts albeit one-so he wouldn’t end up saying stupid like he always did when he was with the Asian Branch Scouter. So when he stood in front of the little mirror hanging precariously on the wall and opened his mouth, he saw little Martin Chalfie shaping his little hands into a little telephone and mumbling a little ”Hello, Mrs. Stevenson, this is Martin. Is Tom home?” a few times before nodding satisfiedly and picking up the real phone. 

Anyway, he shooed away the faint memory of his younger self and spit out random words to try and make a decent script. But formal, dispassionate greetings and questions about the weather evolved itself into words of condemnation for “stealing” his promised place of Asian branch Scouter, for captivating Mr. Bruce Boitler’s heart, for appearing into his life from the first place, and then into soft whispers of love. 

The classic “I love you” did not work, because this, in any way, could not be labeled as an ordinary phenomenon.

“I’ve fallen in love with you” did not work as well, because the object of the emotion preferred solidarity more than most other things.

“Will you go out with me” sounded too much like a teenager, and the other participant of the dialogue would not understand such a phrase and would take him to a bamboo forest for meditation. 

This was terrible. The fact that he developed a feeling other than hatred and apathy for the damned, yes, damned, Chinese was terrible, and that even he, the proud and talented member of the foundation, could not depict what his obscure heart said with his vast palette of vocabulary was terrible. 

But then, his chocolate eyes opened up from a frown and with a clear but embarrassing confidence, his lips moved by itself. 

“The thing is, I’m in a terrible… I’m terribly,” because this whole thing was so terrible, “in love,” and cautiously added “with you,” just in case he showed his brief moments of emotions, like the time he broke his grandfather’s antique watch, and because the blunt Chinese might not comprehend him and make him reiterate the shameful words, “Tian Zheng.” 

Freckles burning with embarrassment, he buried his warm face in his bloodlessly cold hands. And when he faced the mirror again, the first thing he noticed was the open door and a pair of flawless black dress shoes. Martin slowly turned his head up, feeling blood draining even from his head, and saw the minute hand passing the hour hand and getting a minute closer to six thirty five.

 

“So, if Tian means sky,” Martin had said last summer, waiting together for the late disciple from Josun to arrive so they could embark on a summer voyage, 

“What does Zheng stand for, Mr, Sky?” 

“Zheng stands for righteousness, and one way of its realization,” he had said, catching sight of the late boy blatantly arriving after the train’s departure, “is keeping time.”

“Living so rigorously must be such an advantage.” he had sarcastically said.

**Author's Note:**

> 2016\. 10.10


End file.
